


Damaged

by dmnutv_archer



Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (2011)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-15
Updated: 2011-12-15
Packaged: 2017-10-27 08:50:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/293929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dmnutv_archer/pseuds/dmnutv_archer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fourth fic in the Ruled series. (Previous fics: <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/279699">Ruled</a>, <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/284695">Owned</a>, <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/288078">Fractured</a>)</p><p>When Natasha does not recover from her injuries, Thor goes in search of Loki.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Damaged

Damaged

 

Slumped in a chair at Natasha’s bedside, Hawkeye continued his vigil. He held her hand in his, gently stroking the back with his thumb. “She won’t wake up.”

Thor stood at his shoulder, looking down at the tangle of tubes providing what she needed to stay alive. He disliked coming here. It felt awkward, given his brother had nearly taken her life, yet also saved her. Divided loyalties were an uncomfortable presence, shadowing him with every interaction. He worried for Loki. He also found it disconcerting seeing this once powerful woman lying unconscious for days, with the typically outgoing Hawkeye now reduced to pensive and stressed, never leaving her side. “She will,” he said, attempting to offer reassurance. But it sounded weak, even to himself.

Hawkeye carefully placed her hand back on the bed, then pushed to his feet. “It’s been nearly three WEEKS Thor.”

“He said it would take time for her to heal.” Thor paused, leaving unspoken that Loki had not warned of this lengthy state of unconsciousness. Not that Loki himself had been in any condition to elaborate. After the battle he disappeared completely. Over the weeks Thor had become increasingly concerned. Although he suspected Loki had not gone far, seeking him out might provoke renewed hostilities.

Hawkeye halted his anxious strides on the far side of the room, away from the bed. He slammed a fist against the wall, once, then spun back around, his face creased with anger and frustration. “This? This is just another one of your brother’s sick games,” he said, his voice shaking. “Heal her enough so she can spend the rest of her life a vegetable. He is one twisted, sadistic fucker!”

How could Thor respond? Perhaps it was true. At times Loki reveled in causing the misfortune of others. But after seeing the tortured confusion and raw vulnerability in his brother’s eyes that day, Thor doubted it. Still, after weeks with no change, it had become apparent Natasha needed further healing. And not the primitive mending offered by Midgardian healers. They claimed she had been irrevocably damaged and there was nothing they could do. Thor needed to bring Loki here, quickly.

“I’ll return soon,” he said, the usual sentiment offered at the end of his visits. It seemed better than to acknowledge the bitter hate Hawkeye felt toward his brother, or speak of his intention. As he backed away, he considered what he could possibly say that might convince Loki to enter this fortress of his enemies.

“I guess sleeping with her was not enough,” Hawkeye muttered while slamming himself back into the chair. “The son of a bitch had to destroy her too.”

Halfway to the door, Thor froze. “What?”

The archer shrugged. “They fucked. She won a bet between us. Who could seduce him first.”

He stared at Hawkeye, stunned by this outrageous revelation. “You wagered on becoming bed mates with my brother?!”

“Shit yeah. He’s hot. A fucked up mess. But aren’t we all?” He smiled, a thin, brittle expression that seemed a mockery of himself. “Totally fucked up. Now look at us.”

Thor looked away. Confusion and anger and perhaps even jealousy battled inside him. How could he respond to any of this? Loki _hot_? What a simplistic, inappropriate description. Loki transcended any concept these humans had of physical beauty and allure. His entire adult life Thor fought against the unsettling stirrings of his own attraction to his brother. As for mental stability? Thor knew far more about the damage Loki lived with than they could even imagine. Not that it was even their concern.

But learning Natasha had intimate contact with Loki prompted his memory. Standing amidst the crumbled remains of buildings that had lined an entire city block. Recalling Loki’s quiet words, and the unbearable pain radiating from him.

Trust. He had said causing her death was not how he would honor her. Because she trusted him. Just once. He realized now that Loki referred to her trusting him enough for physical intimacy. Thor knew Loki mostly avoided such contact, at least before they ended up here on Midgard. And for it to have been with an enemy? That he even allowed himself such a liaison, however brief, shocked Thor. Yet by giving her trust, she must have touched him beyond the base needs of the body. “That’s what he meant.”

Hawkeye jerked his head up. “Who meant about what?”

But Thor spun away. “I will return,” he promised, and strode through the door.

 

#

 

The light tap on the hotel suite’s door prompted Loki to rise from the warmth of bed. Though still weak, he refused to welcome his brother while on his back, under blankets like some feeble invalid.

Expected for days now, Thor had finally arrived. No one else could have passed through the energies protecting the entire penthouse floor. He had set the wards before he collapsed, unconscious, stretched beyond even his endurance by the battle against his brother’s ridiculous friends. That he had managed to weave those protective wards after transferring back here that afternoon proved his superior abilities to wield magic. No. That proof lay in what he had granted Natasha.

Another tap against the door, this one harder. Sensing his brother’s impatience, he dragged himself upright. A simple flick of his wrist summoned a slight surge of magical energy, and clothed his body in black leather and green silk. Not battle dress and full armor though. Attire similar to what he once wore at home. When he was a prince of Asgard. An infinite number of lives ago.

Angry memories frayed at his sense of calm. He denied them. Not now. Not yet. Not until Thor came to tell him what he already knew.

He pulled the sleeves down, covering his wrists, then smoothed his hands over the leather tunic. Though undoubtedly pale, his skin even more bloodless than usual, he hoped he appeared healthy and in control.

A third tap on the door, this time the unique thud of Mjölnir, followed by the faint resonance of the hammer’s energy as it met Loki’s own powerful magics.

He took a deep breath. Held it. Exhaled, slowly, clearing his mind. Then, standing by the small writing table, far from the suite’s entrance, he loosened the wards and allowed the door to swing open.

Thor strode in, all brightness and power, Mjölnir in hand, red fabric trailing behind him. He looked every bit the regal Son of Odin. Loki hated him for it. Until he smiled.

“Loki.” He opened his arms. “My brother.”

Loki ground his teeth, striving for control. Without smiling in return, he tipped his head. “Thor.”

Thor’s bounding steps across the room stopped, abruptly. He lowered his arms, obviously realizing he would not receive a welcoming embrace. “You look...” he began, eyes tracking from Loki’s face, slowly down his body, then back up.

Unwilling to endure the endless questions regarding his health, especially knowing those would lead to a tedious discussion of his overall well being, Loki shook his head. “Don’t. Just tell me why you are here.”

Thankfully, Thor nodded, though still kept those narrowed eyes scanning Loki, as though his intrusive visual examination might reveal some unspoken truth.

Loki folded his body into the chair beside the writing table. He breathed deep, fighting the rising urge to unloose all his suppressed fury right here. Thor remained standing, though he rested Mjölnir on the table. “Natasha has not yet regained consciousness,” he said, his voice now oddly quiet. And his eyes shifted from the floor, to where his hammer sat on the table, to the bed, then quickly back to the floor. Anywhere but directly at Loki.

Ah. Somehow he must have discovered Natasha had visited here, and why. Useful later, maybe. But for now Loki preferred to leave that sordid past alone.

As for the present, he was already aware of Natasha’s condition. He had done what he could that day, but it was barely enough before his own strength failed. And now Thor arrived to plead with him to heal her, as if he were some Midgardian fairy tale prince who would save the lovely, but helpless, damsel in distress.

Loki laughed.

“You are amused? The healers say she will never wake!” Thor shouted. Outside the tall, drapery covered windows, thunder rumbled in the distance.

Healers? That only inspired more laughter. “Midgardian fools.” Aware he sounded less than sane, he cut off his laugh, then sighed. “I know. I’ve known since that day.” He looked up, meeting that blue-eyed gaze that had always weakened his resolve.

Before he could stop himself, the truth tumbled forth. “She died Thor. In my arms.”

“Died? Then how did...?”

He threw up one slender hand, palm out. “Hush! Once again you underestimate me.” A nice little reply, vague. No reason to give the whole truth. Thor knew only basic magic, and for him to grasp how Loki returned Natasha from a mortal death would require hours of explanation. It would also mean him learning Loki was willing to die that day.

Now Thor strode across the room and back, his heavy boots thumping on the thick carpeting. “You nearly killed yourself, did you not? Gave her the last of your energy to bring her back? Is that why you look like this?” he raged, pointing at Loki. “Why you have been hiding here for weeks?”

Well. Perhaps it was he who underestimated Thor.

Despite the anger and mistrust and grief all grappling for his attention, he barely lifted one eyebrow. “Hiding. Yes, if you wish to believe that. Healing myself.”

“You do not appear well,” Thor observed, without the sarcasm Loki would have employed had their situations been reversed. That further irritated him.

“I will never be _well_ Thor. Never.”

But even as those revealing words passed his lips, he hated that he made such an admission of mental weakness. Abruptly, he stood, then backed away from his brother’s looming presence and despicable concern.

“Enough of that. Let us talk of Natasha’s condition, since that is why you _bothered_ to finally seek me out.”

Damn. Again his tongue betrayed him. Why did Thor make him feel like his control was sliding away, carrying with it the last hold over his sanity?

“Your erratic behavior did not bode well for you welcoming me before it was absolutely necessary. Though you certainly welcomed Natasha here.” He paused, frowning, then waved a hand toward the massive bed on the far side of the suite. “I admit surprise that you chose to engage in physical intimacy with her.”

Physical intimacy? Loki crossed the room, laughing again. “I _fucked_ her Thor. She begged for it. So I took her right here. Against this wall!” He pressed his hand on the wall, spreading his fingers out, caressing the surface, watching Thor’s eyes widen. “Does that disgust you?”

Thor flinched, the movement nearly imperceptible, but there. And in it Loki found just a glimmer of what he had known since they had become men. What they shared, but never acknowledged. Still sliding his hand along the wall, he allowed his lips to curve upward and his eyelids to close slightly. “No... Not disgust. Envy, perhaps?” he said, lowering his voice.

Even from here across the room, he heard Thor swallow hard. “Yes, I envy her. Because you accepted her trust. You will never grant me that honor.”

“I do not desire your trust,” he shot back, suddenly enraged. “Not that you would EVER offer it! You always assume the worst! Why trust Loki? He lies. He cannot be trusted. He is not worthy. Irredeemable. Lost!”

Lost. As he yelled that single word, his mind blurred. Thoughts sped up, slowed down, swirled, then collided with emotions long repressed. Fractures in his stability had become permanent damage. And he had actually thought the weeks spent healing would fix him? Laughter rose around him. His own, quiet but with a manic edge that he now embraced. Why not? At least in this he could be honest. If only it did not feel like his entire existence was being shredded, flung back in time so he could relive every life altering moment of betrayal and lies and each brutal wound inflicted on him while those who hurt him most accused him of the very traits they possessed. Hilarious, their hypocrisy. But his laughter had died, quenched by the horrendous pain now rolling through him in massive waves.

As if looking on from the past, through a thin veil of frost clouding his vision, he watched Thor stride over to the writing table. His brother, the only true Son of Odin, lifted Mjölnir, then spun the hammer once while glaring at him. “You know where to find Natasha. I will ensure I am not present when you visit her. It is best I take my leave now.”

 _Please don’t leave me. Please..._

The pathetic words froze upon his lips, unspoken. But inside him the need for something, anything, to halt this slide into madness shrieked and howled and cried.

Grasping for control, he turned away, searching for a trace of his magic, for some way of grounding himself, without his brother’s aid. But the darkness had already fallen around him, and he dropped to his knees.

Eyes shut tight, he knelt there. Minutes, maybe more. Until he felt the warmth of another’s breath upon his face. Disoriented, he dragged his eyes open and found Thor a mere handspan away, also kneeling, those blue eyes narrowed, this time with concern, not derision.

Thor reached out to him, fingers glancing off his cheek, then curling around his head. But gently. As if Loki might pull away. And he nearly did. His heart thudded, a wild drumming with no rhythm, out of control, like the rapidly disintegrating hold over his sanity.

“Loki,” he whispered. “Why do you hate me?” Those blue eyes stared into him with wretched compassion. For a moment Loki wondered where had Thor found that quality. But that thought crumbled as he leaned into the comfort of Thor’s hand in his hair.

He closed his eyes, feeling tears he abhorred spill over his face. “Hate is too simple a word. I loathe you. Because of your arrogance and stupidity and foolishness and...” he paused, shaking now.

Lies. Truth. Love. Hate. Sane. Mad. A life of twisted extremes, yet lived in shifting shades of grey. Ever the trickster, fooling even himself.

The last bits of his control eroded away, leaving him exposed. Raw. And his brother knew it. He could never truly hide from him.

As strong arms folded around him, he loathed himself with far more passion than he could ever summon for hating Thor. Because this? He needed. So he accepted the embrace. Rested his head on Thor’s shoulder. Breathed deep that sharp, clean scent of the sky just before a storm. Lips touching softly against Thor’s neck, he pressed against him, not bothering to conceal the physical arousal now awakening. And Thor clutched him tighter, the embrace of comfort evolving into more.

It was too late now. Too late for denial. Too late to forbid this deviant desire. Too late.

But Thor pulled back, slightly, while gently stroking his hair, and looked into his eyes. “I cannot do this to you. Not while you are unwell.”

“Now Thor. Now.” He leaned forward, his mouth nearly touching his brother’s. Unwell. Well. Just words. Nothing could truly describe the feeling of it all slipping away from him. This at least might slow the inevitable slide from which he would never recover. “Please do not deny us this.”

And Thor’s lips parted. “Loki...” he whispered. Then he closed this last physical distance between them.

Loki shut his eyes, anticipating the kiss he had imagined since... well, since he had grown old enough to understand what such a kiss meant. Thor’s lips met his, barely touching, warm, soft. Not the powerful kiss he expected. Not a battle for domination. Not a show of strength. Instead, this felt like affection, edged with desire so subtle he wondered how Thor could control himself.

He pulled his mouth away. “You think I am so fragile I might break?”

Something darkened in Thor’s eyes. The blue deepened to the near black color of fathomless seas.

Loki shivered, knowing those few simple words pushed Thor just enough. Perhaps even too far. One powerful hand gripped the back of his head, tightening, crushing their lips together again.

Teeth clashed as both opened their mouths, tongues meeting, sliding together, then probing, wrestling, fighting. Loki moaned into their kiss, his body melting against Thor, fingers winding into those long strands of golden hair.

He pulled, hard, jerking Thor’s head back. “That’s better,” he purred, then rolled his hips forward. As their lengths met through their clothes, he freed his hand, raised it over Thor’s back and turned his wrist. Magical energies converged, snapping in the air and vanishing the layers of fabric protecting them from the final contact moving them from brothers to lovers.

Both gasped, breaking their kiss while arching against each other, thrusting their erections together. Thor growled, now nearly feral. He seized Loki’s shoulders, then threw him from his knees onto his back.

Thor eased his way down, rubbing his body over Loki’s, not breaking their shared gaze. “Let me take care of you,” he said, dragging his tongue over his kiss reddened lips. A promise.

Loki gulped. Thor’s mouth upon him? How often had he pleasured himself while imagining his slicked palm and caressing touch were his brother’s full lips and tongue and mouth? At this moment he truly hated Thor. “I don’t need anyone to take care of me,” he snarled, twisting under Thor’s powerful body pinning him to the floor.

Thor continued sliding down, and planted one hand on his chest, holding him still. “No?” Then he bent his head and took the entire length of Loki’s cock all at once. Deep, to the back of his throat.

Consumed by the overwhelming ache of pleasure gathering in his groin, screaming for release, knowing this was his brother finally accepting him in this way, Loki nearly came. Only his tenuous hold over his magic stopped him. That, and his outrage at this being just another instance of Thor taking control.

Never.

“Stop Thor. Please,” he pleaded, quietly.

That touch like heaven abruptly vanished. He suppressed a whimper at the loss. Thor gazed up at him, lips red and wet, and eyebrows lifted in concern. “Tell me what you want Loki.”

Without answering, he squirmed from beneath his brother’s now eased grip, and rolled onto his side, taking Thor with him. Desperate for a way to restore some balance between them.

And found it rising above Thor’s heavily muscled legs, fully erect, thick, waiting. He spun and wrapped his arms around Thor’s thighs, pulling their bodies together while feeling Thor do the same. Then he slid the tip of his tongue over the head of Thor’s cock. Swirling it, dragging it up one side, then down the other, savoring the moans rumbling deep in his brother’s chest. He closed his eyes, then took in all of the impossibly thick length while plunging himself back into the glorious wet warmth of his brother’s mouth.

Entwined upon the floor, they became one, tasting and giving pleasure while receiving.

As he felt Thor’s hand shift on his hips, reaching down, fingers sliding between his ass, he moaned. A quick summoning of his magic wetted him there, and eased his brother’s searching touch. Thor’s finger slid into him, joined by a second, slow at first, probing deep, then both pulling back until they massaged against that one place he always stimulated himself. Loki cried out around Thor’s cock. No other experience had ever come close to this. Nothing. While Thor’s fingers now thrust into him, hard, and his mouth sucked him off, he lost himself between the iron grip of these two competing pleasures.

And a third pleasure. The hard length forced between his lips, stretching, fucking his mouth. Dimly aware now, he gasped, unable to breathe as Thor thrust deeper, past the back of his throat, cutting off his air completely. Blind pleasure shot through his body, the energy like the crack of magic, splitting him apart, stealing away any sentience. Now, too far gone, he let go of the last hold over himself. He felt his climax twisting the spiraling ache inside him tighter, faster, veiling him in exquisite darkness until it ripped apart. Somehow, he sensed Thor too had reached the end.

Shaking, they clutched themselves together, arms and legs entwined, as both came, spilling in each other’s mouths. Together.

A last thought as Loki’s awareness receded.

 _Equals. Just this once._

 

#

 

Thor lay sprawled on the hotel suite’s blessedly thick carpet. Draped over him, Loki’s unclothed body, slack and still sweat dampened, had yet to stir. His breathing slowed from the shallow gasps just after they both found their release in each other until now it seemed he slept.

In the room’s muted light, Loki’s back gleamed. Pale. Maybe more than it should have been. But still beautiful. Thor traced his fingertips up along the soft skin, then threaded them into Loki’s hair. Gently, he stroked, the motion soothing, at least to him. Loki remained still, aside from the very faint, rhythmic breaths, each exhale warm across Thor’s chest.

This moment, out of time, them together and at peace. Only because he had the courage to cross over this one final wall rising between them. Demolishing it, really. He might have imagined holding Loki, as brothers would, showing him affection that way to begin mending the rift between them. But this? To allow themselves to give in to their never acknowledged mutual attraction and desire?

Nothing could have prepared him for this. Not even the fantasies he often entertained, like fleeting thoughts too dangerous to ever fully indulge.

And how had Loki become so experienced this way? So open and, well, intensely erotic? Or had he been all along? Thor found his memory wandering back. Maybe subconsciously he had always known this aspect of his brother existed. But to see it meant knowing it was there. And that might have led to this.

This. Loki in his arms, asleep, trusting him completely. After all anger and grief between them. Why now?

He exhaled, heavily, releasing all of those thoughts.

As his hand tired, and the stroking motions through Loki’s hair lulled him to sleep, his fingers slowed. “Don’t stop,” Loki murmured. “Never stop...”

Thor had no promise he could give in return. So he kept his hand moving, his touch gentle, inspired by all the love he bore his brother.

But all the tangled emotions and thoughts still tugged at his mind. He cupped his brother’s face and lifted it so he could look into his eyes. “Will you ever let me love you?”

For a moment Loki stared back. Thor searched for more than the pain still there. Then Loki turned away and buried his face back against Thor’s neck. “I will never allow anyone to love me. Not even myself.”

The softly spoken admission felt like a knife in Thor’s heart. “Loki... Why?”

There was only silence for a long moment. Then Loki sighed. “Someday Father might help you understand. I will not.”

And with that, Thor knew not to press further. Not until sometime in the future. Now, at least they had forged something together. Whether it lasted just this night, or beyond, it was more than they shared emotionally since their lives began to go awry after the failed coronation.

Loki stirred against him, as if to move away from their embrace. Though Thor regretted losing this moment, he opened his arms from around his brother’s warmth. But Loki merely propped himself up on Thor’s chest.

“I’ll do what I can for Natasha. But I might require help. There needs to be something more, something I was not, am not, able to give her. Intangible. Not magic. Not energies. It has to be emotion, a strong connection. I lack that for her.” He sighed, then lay back down, again draping that slender, sensuous body around Thor. “Or for anyone.”

Thor closed his arms around his brother, holding him as tight as he dared. The underlying sadness in that revelation touched him, deeply. He also wondered why Loki chose to lie to himself. Because together they did share an emotional connection. Powerful. Enough to shake entire worlds.

Again, he pushed that aside. For now, they needed to take care of Natasha. Loki’s admission that he felt nothing for her relieved him. Not that he thought Loki had any emotional attachment to her. But knowing for certain alleviated any future problems for all of them after she awoke. Hawkeye in particular did not need Loki interfering in his already tumultuous romantic relationship with Natasha. Though how the two of them could be together, yet wager on seducing another man puzzled Thor. Odd. But they did seem right for each other. And Hawkeye would do anything to have her back, healed and well again. Even if it meant dealing with Loki.

“Hawkeye will help you. He loves her. Hates her too. But they are a match of two spirits who belong together.”

“Love and hate,” Loki whispered against his neck, curling tighter around him. “Perhaps such extremes are simply two halves of the whole. So far apart they return to each other. Meeting and merging to form a vast circle. Perhaps.”

Perhaps. But to Thor that bizarre logic seemed more proof that Loki’s mind, the way he perceived life and all that surrounded him, was seriously flawed. Damaged.

He tightened his arms around his brother. Loki might never accept it, but Thor loved him. Always had. Always would. Damaged or well. He reached up and caught his hand in Loki’s hair. His fingers resumed their slow trailing through the soft strands, conveying all the comfort he could while Loki allowed at least this much between them. But he knew it might never be enough.


End file.
